Vivere Pro Pace
by HarvestBlue
Summary: The last war was a struggle for power.  This war will be a struggle for peace.
1. The Sea is Calm, the Moon Lies Fair

**A/N:** The first part of the prologue is written in the form of letters. Any grammatical errors are intentional.

* * *

Prologue: The Sea is Calm, The Moon Lies Fair

* * *

Albus Severus Potter to Harry and Ginny Potter 

1 September 2017

Hi Mum! Hi Dad!

Its my first night here. I'm in Slytherin. I hope no one is too mad. You were right. The hat didn't try to eat my brain. I'm never listening to James again.

Professor Zabini said he knew you in school. Did you know everyone?

I know some of the people in my house already. Art and Victoire didn't give me a hard time about it but James just laughed. That scares me. Don't tell him I said so.

Rose is in Ravenclaw, she seems happy. We didn't really have much time to talk because of the feast and then meeting our Heads of House and the Prefects and everything.

Almost lights out. Tell Lily and Hugo and Henry and Alex and Edward hi!

Love you,

Al

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy to Draco and Elysia Malfoy 

1 September 2017

Hello,

I made it safely to Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin as we suspected. There are a lot more people here than I had expected.

Professor Zabini seems interesting. I'm looking forward to his class. I'm not worried about finding friends. Headmaster Flitwick told our prefects that this was the largest first year class of Slytherins since Voldemort was defeated.

Remember my love to grandmother.

Your son,

Scorpius

* * *

Percy Weasley to Arthur Spinnet Weasley 

5 September 2017

Arthur,

Glad to hear that things are going well your first week back. I know you're anxious to enjoy yourself, but O.W.L.s will be upon you before you know it, so don't lose your focus. Also, I have a few questions regarding the matter of your younger brother's aborted stow-away attempt. There are several places I might lay blame, but hiding in the luggage rack seems more your style. I think you might expect a rather longer letter from your mother quite soon.

That being said, I'm sure you're tired of hearing about how proud we are of you, but I think it bears repeating. Not just your becoming Prefect, though that's certainly an honour, but also the sort of young man you've managed to become.

Keep the firsties in line, but don't abuse your power. Look out for your brother and cousins. Don't let Gideon spend too much time shut away, and for Merlin's sake, try to keep Victoire out of trouble.

The twins send their love and would like me to ask you not to be too good at everything so they don't have to prove they're better than you. I've no doubt you miss your brothers greatly.

Your loving (and slightly exasperated),

Dad

* * *

George Weasley to Henry Weasley 

12 September 2017

Henry,

You know, when I suggested that you hide in the luggage on the train, I was mostly joking. Your dad had a few choice words for me once he figured it out. Next time I give you an idea, you may want to think twice about it.

I know everyone's been a little preoccupied with the new baby coming, but I don't want you to think that I'm not going to have time for you. You're still my favorite nephew, and that's saying something.

Angie's in hospital now, sooner than we expected, but she and the baby are doing fine. Try talking your dad into bringing you and the urchins, I mean twins, round this evening. I've got some new sweets I want you to try for me.

Give my love to your mom and dad, and tell Ed and Alex to behave, at least for now.

See you soon.

Your favourite Uncle,

George

* * *

Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter 

14 September 2017

"Hello?"

"It's Dudley. Let me talk to Harry."

"Okay. Just a second." There was a brief pause and the sound of Ginny calling Harry's name.

"Hello?"

"Harry?" Dudley's voice was shrill with panic.

"Dudley? Is something wrong?"

There was a long pause. "D. . . well. . . he. . . movedtheremote."

"What?"

There was another long pause, and Harry could hear Dudley's wife making funny noises in the background. "He . . . he. . . moved the remote with. . . with . . . you know."

Harry gasped. "Magic? D's a wizard?"

Dudley groaned. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Stay calm. I'll be right there."

* * *

Hermione Weasley to Victor Krum 

16 September 2017

Dear Victor,

I'm sorry I haven't written in ages. There seems to be no end to the excitement around here, lately. Our oldest, Rose, is starting Hogwarts this year with Harry and Ginny's younger son. George is about to have his first, and Molly's in a panic. Teddy's started working at the Ministry, and he's doing wonderfully. Mr. Lathrop put in a very good word for him, and Teddy's endlessly grateful.

It seems strange calling the young man "mister". He's not yet thirty and has already made quite a name for himself. You would like Daniel Lathrop, I think. He's very charming and intelligent, and his ideas about equality for non-human magical beings are truly groundbreaking! I have no doubt that he will succeed in changing the world.

I've been following the recent muggle conflicts, I admit, with some apprehension. I know that you are well out of harm's way, but I still feel this violence is too close to Europe for comfort.

Do take care, and tell your lovely wife Hello.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Faithfully,

H.

* * *

Ron Weasley to Charlie Weasley 

21 September 2017

Charlie,

How're things? Have the new dragons hatched yet?

I know that Romania is safe from these Muggle Conflicts, but be safe and careful. You're probably not anywhere near Muggles, so you're safe enough, but you know you're more than welcome if you want to come back to England for a bit. Hugo would love to see you. He misses having his sister around even if he won't admit it.

Rose was sorted into Ravenclaw. No surprise there. She inherited all of Hermione's brains. Al was sorted Slytherin. A Slytherin in our family. He's already friend with Malfoy's offspring. Could you imagine that ferrety little brat at our house for hols? I don't know what we're going to do with him. A Slytherin. Who could have imagined it? Herm says I'm overreacting. I don't think I'm overreacting. He's a Slytherin.

Speaking of Hermione, she's been spending a lot of time with this new kid at the Ministry. He's only 25 and already has people eating out of his hand. He and Hermione talk for hours. He's a Muggleborn, too, so they have that in common. Lathrop was a Ravenclaw, so he's thrilled about Rose. Herm says she's known him for a few years, but he's really getting noticed now with all his talk about maintaining Wizarding culture and heritage. Big talk from someone who's Muggleborn. He just goes on and on about wizards being peaceful and good. He must not remember Death Eaters. Right. Wizards are all good. So much better than Muggles. Everyone just laps up everything he says, like he's Merlin reborn or something. Even Harry.

Well, I'm running out of ink and parchment. Be careful.

Cheers,

Ron

* * *

Theodore Lupin to Daniel Lathrop 

22 September 2017

Daniel-

Hello! I just wanted to say thank you again for helping me get this job. I'm not sure that I could have gotten it without your help (and of course some help from Hermione, as well). I don't really have much to do right now that's very important, but I don't know how they survived without their tea before I came along.

Hermione says that you're doing really well at the Ministry. I hope that you can find some time soon for us to go get lunch. We haven't done anything since I graduated with the exception of that dinner party, but I didn't really get to talk to you there.

I'm still dating Victoire, but she's at Hogwarts this year. Hermione's oldest daughter was sorted into your house. I don't know if you know that. She and Harry's son Al, who's a Slytherin, are the first non-Gryffindors in that whole giant family. There's a small amount of chaos about it. I just shake my head and smile. It can be nice for it to be just me and Gran.

I think I've given you as much of an update on life as I can without boring you in the middle of your crazy schedule with all of these ridiculous "Muggle Conflicts".

Your ever-grateful friend,

Teddy

* * *

Neville Longbottom to Luna Scamander 

25 September 2017

Dear Luna,

Thanks so much for the rare plant clippings you sent! Our greenhouse here is excellent, but there are some things that just can't be kept in Scotland. My 4th years got quite a kick out of the Scandinavian Ice Weed, especially since it was growing right over the top of the cooler I was keeping it in.

Sounds like you're having quite a lark in Finland, though you'll probably be somewhere else by the time this reaches you. I do worry about you being abroad, especially with all these Muggle conflicts going on.

You have to come home for a visit soon. I'm anxious to see little Thisbe again. Who knows? Maybe I can convince you to give a guest lecture.

My best to Rube. Write when you can.

Yours Always,

Neville Longbottom

* * *

London, 30 September 2017 

"I thought it was supposed to be another month," Ron grumbled as he, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny hurried past empty store fronts that glinted softly in the early morning light. The proprietor of a coffee shop, just preparing to open, looked at the curiously as they jogged past.

"They couldn't have kept feeding the baby much longer, anyway," said Hermione, tugging at Hugo who stumbled sleepily along clutching her hand.

Lily, alert and clinging to her father's back, asked, "Is Aunt Angie gonna be okay?"

"'Course she will, sweetheart," Harry told her confidently, hoping his voice did not betray how deeply he began to doubt it. "It'll take a lot more than an impatient baby to hurt Angie."

Ginny gave him a sidelong look, and he knew her apprehension mirrored his own. As they approached the disheveled front of Purge and Dowse Ltd., Hermione quietly told the mannequin, "Visitors for Angelica Weasley." The Mannequin beckoned them on, and they stepped through the glass.

As they made their way up to the private ward where Angie had been for the better part of a month, Harry thought, rather suddenly, of George and felt a pang of sympathy. He glanced at Ginny, felt Lily's weight on his back, and imagined that this, the things he loved most and had worked so hard to have and keep, were caught precariously in the balance, their future and safety in someone else's hands, his own hands tied.

Harry stepped a little faster.

In the waiting room, Percy sat holding Henry in his lap. Both their eyes moved steadily back and forth as George paced an uneven line across the centre of the floor. When the others entered, to looked up only long enough to acknowledge their arrival before swinging his gaze back to the ground and continuing to chew intently on the end of one finger.

Percy greeted them with a cheerful, and very tired, smile. Gesturing vaguely at George, he said, "He's been doing this for two hours. I think a trail's started forming in the carpet."

Ron snorted and sat next to Percy. "Heard from mum and dad yet?" he asked.

"Flooed them a little while ago," Percy replied. "Dad said they'd stop for supplies."

The Weasleys had spent enough time waiting outside delivery rooms to know that a bag of biscuits and butterbeer was a wise thing to have at the ready.

Lily had just dozed off in a chair beside the already unconscious Huge when Molly and Arthur arrived bustling disarray, supplies on hand. George stopped pacing to hug Molly and tell his parents, in a voice too exhausted to sound frightened, that they didn't know anything yet and the healer would be out as soon as they did.

Molly looked close to tears as she patted his arm reassuringly before rummaging in the shopping bags to pass out drinks and packets of snacks which went largely untouched. Harry saw George exchange a deep look with Arthur who put a hand on his son's shoulder and said softly, "Angie's a tough girl, son."

George nodded, apparently unable to speak, and Arthur went to sit on the other side of Percy, who was now busy opening a butterbeer for Henry. Henry kept his solemn eyes fixed on George.

When the healer, a surprisingly young man, stuck his head in half an hour later and said, "Mr. Weasley?" George jumped several inches in the air and got to the door so quickly he might have apparated. The healer stepped back and George followed him into the hall. Harry could hear the healer's low voice, occasionally interrupted, but could not make out what was being said. The room was quiet and tense, Molly wringing her hands nervously, until George came back in looking, if possible, even paler and more distraught than before.

"They won't let me see them," he said, angry and disbelieving. "It's been four bloody hours and they won't let me see them." His pacing resumed, more like weaving circles. He reminded Harry of a lion franticly stalking the perimeter of his cage.

Molly, Hermione, Ron, and Percy all seemed to start talking at once, asking questions, offering comfort. Molly stood tensely as though restraining herself from running forward to take her little boy in her arms, practically shouting that everything would be fine. Percy wanted to know what the healer had said. Ron cursed the hospital administration as Hermione defended it speculatively. George seemed to hear none of it.

Henry twisted his head round and gave his father an unreadable look, at which Percy's mouth immediately closed. Then, without a word, Henry stood, walked over to George, and firmly took his favourite uncle by the hand.

The clamor subsided, and George looked down, stunned. At a reassuring smile from his nephew, he took a deep breath and, with apparent effort, spoke. "The baby's born. Fred. He… He's so small. So tiny, they said. The don't know if…" He broked off, passing a hand over his face. "Angie unconscious. They said she's not breathing right, won't wake up, and… and… I can't see her, either of them. The healers won't let me in. They said it could be a while before they know anything." His shoulders sagged as if this speech had drained the last of his strength, and Henry led him silently to a seat across the room from everyone else. After a mom, he sighed and said, without looking up, "You don't have to stick around. Could be a long wait."

"Bugger that," Ginny said so forcefully that Harry started. "We're not going anywhere." She looked at Harry as if daring him to suggest otherwise.

George nodded and sat back in the chair so that Henry could hold more tightly to his arm.

Shortly after noon, sixteen faces peered thought the big window of the nursery at what appeared to be a small wad of blankets crowned by a wispy tuft of bright ginger hair. Everyone seemed awed at the sight and relieved to know that the little baby had inherited his parents' fighting spirit and was going to be just fine.

Hugo leaned with both hand against the glass, legs held up in Ron's arms. "Was I that tiny?" he asked his father.

"Not quite," Ron said. "Baby Fred's got a lot of growing to do."

"He's gonna be tall," said a quiet voice. George looked down at Henry who was still gripping his hand. The two of them shared a knowing smile and turned back to the window.

"At least this is the last one," Molly said. Percy looked sideways at Alicia who returned with a glare that clearly said, "No."

"I zink zat two ees more zan enough," Fleur observed primly. Bill made a sound of general agreement.

Harry seemed to be the only one to notice the silent conversation taking place between Ron and Hermione. Hermione seemed to feel there was something that needed to be said, something which Ron would have preferred not to bring up. Harry watched this exchange with some puzzlement and curiousity.

"Any more and we'd have to rent a space for Christmas," Percy laughed. A chuckle went round, and Hermione decided she couldn't take it anymore.

"He's not the last one," she said shortly. Silence fell as fourteen heads turned to stare at her. Ron gazed resolutely through the window. She turned pink and muttered, "It's due in March."

Molly's face slowly lit into an expression of brilliant joy. "You're having another baby?"

Hermione nodded and a burst of hugs and chattering and congratulations consumed the next several minutes.

When the healer came to say that Angie could have a few visitors, the herd of Weasleys split. The twins, Edward and Alex, conferred briefly and seemed to decide that Alex would keep watch over the new cousin while Ed followed their father, Henry, George, Harry, Lily, and Hermione down the hall. He grabbed hold of Percy's hand and strode with purpose into the large hospital room.

The suite was set up for two patients, but Angie was alone so there was plenty of space for her visitors to spread out and make themselves comfortable. In the far bed beside the window, George's wife lay back against a pile of pillows, pale and thin, her dark eyes open and alert.

Harry had known a number of strong, frightening women in his life, his wife and mother-in-law included, and most of them would feel inclined to back carefully away from Angelica Weasley. How she had come to be cursed had never been explained in detail, but its effects were evident. Harry had seen her without the scarf that typically covered her lower face, but the thick, uneven stitches that sewed her lips together still sent a chill up his spine. The curse sustained her, though she could not eat or drink, and she was nearly emaciated after almost twenty years of minimum subsistence.

George beamed at her, and her mouth twisted into a grim facsimile of a smile. Her eyes though, too wide for her face and little too close together, were glowing with genuine happiness.

She took a small piece of parchment from the bedside table, touched it with the index finger of her right hand, and held it up for George to read. In an even, angular scrawl it said, "You look like hell."

Ruefully, George ran a hand through his unkempt hair, still a brilliant orange now sporting bits of grey at his temples. As he sat beside her, Angie reached up gently to touch the week's growth of silver-ginger stubble on his chin.

"Gave me a scare," he said softly.

She touched the parchment again, and when she held it up it read, "It'll take more than that."

George smiled, and Lily gave Harry a satisfied smirk.

Half an hour later, as much of the family that could had squeezed into the room, which suddenly seemed much smaller. The rest stood at the doorway, chatting happily. In the far corner by the window, George sat next to Angie, cradling the tiniest baby Harry had ever seen and grinning like an idiot.

There was a brief flurry of activity out in the hall, and Bill turned round, evidently to talk with a passing healer. When he looked back in he said, "Something's happened. They're telling us to turn on the wireless."

"What do you mean? What's happened?" Molly asked as Ginny reached to turn the dial.

Bill shrugged. After a faint burst of static, the voice of the speaker came through sharp and clear.

"That's Daniel Lathrop," Hermione said, surprised. "But what's..?"

Percy shushed her and bent closer to the wireless. As the message of the speech emerged, even the sounds of breathing seemed to fade into tense silence. They listened, and Ginny turned up the volume.

* * *

Hogwarts, 30 September 2017 

"Bored," Albus announced, flinging himself into a chair.

"Do your homework," Rose suggested, as she made the final corrections on her first Transfiguation essay.

"Already finished."

"We could go exploring," Scorpius piped up, a glint of adventure in his eye.

"We went exploring last week."

"Yeah, but everyone's at Hogsmeade. We'll have the castle to ourselves."

Al considered this, looking questioningly at Rose who ignored him until she had rolled her parchment and tucked it safely away. "We could go down to the kitchens. Uncle George told me how to get in."

"And do what? Eat?"

"Well I am a bit hungry," Scorpius said.

"You're always hungry."

Scorpius assumed an offended, haughty air. "It's only because I've a fast m-… meta-… metbee…. Anyway, mum says I've got one, so I need to eat more than most people."

"Sure," Al snorted. "Then one day you'll wake up all huge and fat 'cause you're metawhatsit's quit working."

"I will not!"

"Or maybe it'll get faster," he continued. "Then you'd be skin-and-bones like Aunt Angie."

"Who's Aunt Angie?"

"She's our aunt."

"Figured that out, didn't I? Imeant…"

"Uncle George's wife," Rose informed him, then added solemnly, "She's got a curse."

"Oh," Scorpius said, as if having a curse explained everything. After a pause, he said, "I think I've lost my appetite."

"Miracle, that," said Al, bouncing out of his chair. "Let's go exploring."

In the passageway, they found James and his friend, Colm Lachlan, heading toward the back of the castle.

"Wotcher, snake-boy," James greeted his little brother with a grin.

"Don't call me that," Al snapped back. "Dad said not to make fun."

"Relax," he said, ruffling Al's hair. "I'm just teasing."

Al looked rebellious but said nothing.

"What're you sprogs up to?" Colm asked with a smile at Rose who immediately turned pink and began studying her feet.

"We're exploring!" Scorpius declared proudly.

"What? Again?" James scoffed. "There's only so much castle to see, you know."

"We're off to say hullo to Professor Longbottom," said Colm.

"Oh! I wanted to ask him about our herbology project," Rose chimed brightly.

"Why? We're not due to start til next half," Al said. "We don't even know what it is, yet."

"That's why I want to ask him," Rose replied.

The five of them trekked cheerfully out to the greenhouses, chattering away in the cool September air. As they got closer, the sound of the wireless drifted up to greet them. Neville liked to listen to music while he tended the plants. But they could hear the voice of the newscaster, not the rollicking wizard rock Neville preferred, and they entered the building to find him seated in a wooden chair beside the radio, hunched over, his strong face drawn and pale.

The students slowed their approach, and James queried hesitantly, "Professor?"

Neville held up a hand, and the children stayed quiet as he listened intently to a few more lines of the report. When he finally turned to face them, his expression was heavy and grave. Unable to stand the curiousity, Al came forward to stand at the knee of his parents' old friend.

"Neville? What's happened?"

"There's been…" he began and stopped as though foundering. "The Muggle conflicts have escalated. They've… There was a bomb. In India. A school was hit."

"That's awful," James said, "But what's..?"

"A wizarding school?" Rose cut in.

Neville nodded. "The Hindi school in the south. More than three hundred students and professors."

"Are they alright?" Colm asked. "I mean, is anyone..?"

"All of them," he replied softly. "Every last… I had a colleague, a friend, who was a teacher. The school was leveled, completely destroyed."

Silence hung heavy with shock, the students struggled to understand the enormity of this tragedy, to grasp the meaning of their professor's sadness and grief.

Slowly, Neville spoke again. "This has never happened before," he explained. "Our worlds have touched, ours and Muggles, have affected each other, but never…" He took a deep breath. "I'm afraid things may be about to change."

Al opened his mouth to ask another question, but something on the wireless had caught Neville's attention again. "Wait," he said. "I think we're going to want to hear this."

In that same moment, as the students stood group around their professor, Al's mother switched on the wireless at St. Mungo, and all of them listened closely as Daniel Lathrop addressed the wizarding world.

* * *

"Today, the hearts of millions are broken. Today, an entire generation has been lost to a senseless act of violence, a blow struck in a war in which they had no part. Today, for the first time in many generations, the entire wizarding world is united. And it pains me to think that such unity may only come through our mourning together. 

"In the midst of this tragedy, I applaud the witches and wizards here in the United Kingdom and all over the world who have so generously offered whatever they can to help those affected by this horrendous act. In this time of grief, we must learn from their example. We must see past the boundaries that have divided our world for so long and remember that the hardships faced by our fellows in India could be faced by any of us, anywhere, at any time. We must stand with our arms open, welcoming those who seek shelter on our shores. The doors of our halls must be flung wide, giving hope to those who have lost that which is most precious.

"Still, even as we work to heal this terrible wound, we can never forget the lessons it has taught us. We cannot forget that there is blamed to be laid, not with our own neighbours and leaders, but with the barbaric governments whose constant warring has brought this evil to pass. We cannot forget that, though we ourselves abhor such indiscriminate violence, the Muggle societies to which we are attached have no such compunctions.

"Even so, we are not blameless. No, we too are responsible for bringing about this brutality. For years, we have driven their cars, paid for their goods, engaged in their leisure, and in doing so have given precious currency to the very governments which have brought us to such evil today.

"For the sake of our world, for the sake of our children, we must ensure, we must be absolutely certain, that a tragedy like this will never happen again. We must distance ourselves from the Muggle culture of violence, from their perpetual self-destruction and from their terrifying weapons against which we cannot defend ourselves.

"Peace must be preserved so that another generation, a new generation, is not lost. Vivere pro pace, to live for peace. This must be our new way of being. To live apart from the cycle of destruction. To live for our children and their way of life. To live, every second, for hope and for peace."

* * *

**A/N:** Also, we're looking for a beta who can check for continuity errors and the like. We're fine on grammar and spelling, but it's an opportunity to read the chapters ahead of time. 


	2. Part 1: Now Does Our World Descend

**Part I: Now Does Our World Descend **

* * *

**October 1, 2022 **

The boat rocked gently as the high waves swelled and receded around it. Anyone who had spent much time on boats would have said the vessel was far too small to be so far out at sea, especially at night, especially when there were Giggly-Plumed Sea Dragons about. This did not seem to bother the little girl who peered curiously into the moonlit water, nor her father standing watchfully behind her. For an uncounted time, she looked down at the gold coin hanging from her neck by a string. Satisfied that the numbers had not changed again, she returned to her vigil until at last she saw the break in the waves she was waiting for.

Her mother pulled herself out of the water with surprising grace. The charm had held and she remained miraculously dry. Rolf helped his wife steady herself and asked anxiously, "Anything?"

She shook her head, setting aside the empty specimen jar, and her husband's face fell.

"Mama?" Thisbe took a step forward as she pulled the galleon from around her neck. "My lucky charm did something funny."

Her mother tilted her head questioningly as she took the coin.

"It got warm," the little girl explained. "Then the numbers where different."

She watched a brilliant smile made of memories dawn on her mother's face.

"I have to go for a while," Luna said dreamily, holding the old coin in her hand as she stared out at the waves. "Neville's calling."

* * *

Almost thirty people were crowded into the back room of the Hog's Head Tavern in Hogsmeade, and all of them seemed to be talking at once. Several of them were shouting at Neville, who stood at the front of the room, and more than a few others were shouting back at them. 

"You're jumping at shadows," declared Zacharias Smith. "Looking for a reason to fight."

"Why would we want to fight?" Michael Corner shot back.

"None of us wants another war," said Susan Bones calmly.

"Then why are you trying to start one?" Dennis Creevey demanded, his young Muggle wife gripping his hand, knuckles white.

"It's already started," Ron growled. "And it's gonna get worse."

"Not if we do something," Hermione rejoined.

"Hermione's right," agreed Alicia. "We can stop this before it gets any farther."

"Before it gets like last time, you mean?" asked Parvati Patil.

"It won't be like last time," Terry Boot put in.

"How do you know that?" Ron sneered.

"Because it won't!" Zacharias shouted. "It's not even-!"

"Enough." Neville's voice cut through the argument like a hex bolt, and silence fell as surely as if he had cast a charm. He stood tall and straight, chin held level, the very picture of strength and composure. Only Harry, seated directly to his right, could see that his hands were shaking.

Once he was certain of everyone's attention, Neville continued. "I know no one wants to believe we could be facing another Voldemort, and I don't think we are." He said the name without flinching, but his fist tightened. "Still, the fact remains that things are changing, and not for the better."

"Why?" Terry snorted. "Because there's finally some order at Hogwarts? Some pride?"

"Snobbery isn't pride," Ginny snapped, glaring.

A fresh burst of arguing erupted, sides of the conflict now more clearly defined. Gideon and Art were shouting at each other across the room, Gideon from their father's side and Art at Teddy's left. From the corner of his eye, Harry watched George and Angie carry on what seemed to be a very intense discussion entirely through changes in expression.

"The Ministry," Neville said loudly, and quiet returned. "Is interfering at Hogwarts. Again."

"You said that already," Padma chimed.

"Well it's still true, isn't it," said Ron impatiently.

"Interfering how?" asked a surly American wizard Harry didn't know. Beside him, Cho sat looking uncertain. A wedding band glinted brightly on her finger.

"A number of ways," Neville replied, apparently relieved to have a pertinent question to answer. "Most of the changes are subtle, 'suggested curriculum', things like that. The biggest is this new class."

"The class on wizarding culture?" Victoire said, puzzled. "What's wrong with it?"

Michael spoke before Neville could answer. "You're too young to remember Alecto Carrow's Muggle Studies, but…"

At this, all present who did remember reacted with pale faces and shouts of incredulity. Angie arched an eyebrow at George, who shook his head. To Neville's left, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas stood with their heads bent close together, whispering furiously.

"They're teaching Muggleborns to reject Muggle culture entirely," Neville explained. "Telling them that everything they've grown up thinking is wrong."

"Isn't it?" Teddy spat.

Harry sat up straighter. His godson's tone was dangerous, his face flushed with anger.

"Their knowledge may be incomplete," said Neville patiently. "But that doesn't mean their way of life is incorrect."

Teddy seemed about to reply, but Susan cut in. "That's not the point, anyway."

"Right," Michael agreed. "If it were just the school, we could handle it ourselves."

"It's not just Hogwarts, though," Percy added. "Things are happening at the Ministry, as well."

"What kinds of things?" Parvati asked.

"The balance of power has shifted," replied Percy ominously. "The Minister is hardly in control, anymore."

"That sounds like his problem, doesn't it," Zacharias said tersely.

"It's not his fault!" Hermione protested. "Daniel Lathrop has-."

"Daniel Lathrop is a visionary," Teddy cut her off.

"He's also usurped control over almost every department in the Ministry," Percy put in. "Everyone's taking his orders, working toward his agenda."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Teddy's voice rose. "Everyone working for peace?"

Harry spoke firmly. "No one should have that much power, Teddy. No matter what their goals are."

"Even if it's for the greater good?" he shouted back, and Harry's blood ran cold.

"Greater good, my arse," Ron snorted. "Lathrop's a power-mad, self-righteous twat, and-."

"Shut up!" Teddy cried, leaping to his feet. "You don't know what you're talking about, any of you! Daniel's done more for the wizarding world-!"

"No, you don't know what you're talking about," Seamus said suddenly, and Teddy's mouth snapped shut. "Most of the people _in this room _have done more for our world, given more for your precious peace than Daniel fucking Lathrop could squeeze out of the whole fucking Ministry. So you'd best sit your arse down and listen to them."

Teddy's face was white with rage. Without a word, he stormed from the room. Art and Victoire exchanged a look, then hurried after him. Gideon's expression was pained as he watched his brother depart, and Percy stared down grimly at his own clasped hands. Harry felt a sickness wrap around his heart, and he made a decision.

"This is getting us nowhere," he said, standing. At a slight nod from Neville, he went on. "We're not planning to overthrow the Ministry."

"Might be an improvement, though," Ron muttered under his breath. On either side, Ginny and Hermione slapped his arms simultaneously.

When no new arguments began, Harry pressed forward. "We just want people to be on guard. Try and figure out what Lathrop's doing, how we can block him." He looked around at the faces turned toward him, people he loved and had fought beside, people who had not survived without loss. He took a deep breath. "We're not looking for a fight, not this time. But we should be ready if one comes looking for us."

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, stalking toward the door, Zacharias grumbled, "Paranoid, the lot of you," and disappeared into the front of the tavern.

Silently, Cho's husband put his big arm around her shoulders, and they followed Zacharias out. Terry snorted and did the same. As they made their way out, the Patil twins paused, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," Padma said, speaking mostly to Neville. "But you just don't have any evidence."

Parvati put her hand on Neville's arm and said softly, "Be careful." He pressed her hand and nodded.

Dennis approached Harry slowly as his wife, whose name, Harry seemed to remember, was Emily, went to wait outside. The younger Creevey had grown tall and thin, and very little remained of the small, mousey boy Harry had first known.

"The war's over, Harry," he said gently, his eyes cautious and sad.

"I know that," Harry replied, and he felt the exhaustion of nearly twenty-five years spent reminding himself of exactly that fact. "But that doesn't mean there won't be other wars."

Dennis nodded solemnly and shook Harry's hand before making his own way out the door. At the exit, he turned to fix both Harry and Neville with the same look of severity and admiration. "Don't do anything stupid," he advised, and left.


	3. Part 1, chapter 2

The moving staircase groaned as it shifted toward the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Rose, Scorpius, and Al had agreed to meet Colm and James for a trip to the library. As they arrived, the two Gryffindors stepped out of the portrait.

"…still think we should- Oh, hey!" James stopped speaking as he noticed his brother.

"Are you ready to go?" Al asked, noting the distinct lack of books in the older boys' arms. Rose, too, noticed this, looking at once exasperated and amused.

"I thought you were finally getting serious about your schoolwork. N.E.W.T.s are only eight months away, you know," she warned severely.

"Well, I… I mean… we…" James, for the most part, was a brave young man, but an irritated Rose Weasley could be frightening at the best of times.

"We were thinking we could nick some snacks and go study outside," Colm said smoothly.

Al cocked an eyebrow. "Right. You're going to go all the way down to the kitchens, back up to the tower, and then back to the lawn. That's a bad excuse, even on the fly."

Before Colm could reply, the portrait swung open once again to admit a chubby, blond first year into the hall.

"Hey, D," Al greeted happily. "How's things?"

Dudley Dursley, jr. looked every inch his father, though notably smaller in stature. He gave a broad grin to his older schoolmates. "Things're good. I have to go to the library. Culture class has ten inches due next week."

Rose perked up. "Oh? What on?"

D sifted through his satchel and pulled out a piece of parchment covered in a scrawling hand. "Common Muggle misconceptions about magic," he read.

At this, Rose wilted slightly. "Oh. I guess I wouldn't be much help with that."

D shrugged. "It's okay. You're wizardborn. You don't have to worry about misconceptions and things."

"If you need help finding anything…" Colm offered.

"I'll be fine," D assured him, waving goodbye and trundling off toward the library.

Once D was out of sight, Scorpius spun on the two older boys. "So what were you two actually about to do?"

James gave him a sharp glare, but mumbled _muffliato _before he spoke. "We're going out to the Shrieking Shack to listen to the wireless."

Rose blinked. "Why are you going all the way out there just to listen to the wireless?"

"Because we're not listening to the wizarding stations."

They stared at him, uncomprehending. Then, Scorpius's eyes widened. "You mean…?"

"Muggle music's better anyway," Colm said, grinning.

The younger students gaped, until Al's stunned look turned into a wicked smile. "We could get in a lot of trouble for this."

James's smirk was a match for his brother's. "I know."

Rose seemed to come her senses and said, "Not just trouble. We could be expelled! _All_ Muggle artefacts, including literature and music, are absolutely forbidden."

"Quote the law for us, why don't you," James muttered.

"We could be arrested!" she cried.

"Come on, Rosie. Come with us?" Colm pleaded, smiling brightly.

"Of course I'm coming," she said, blushing. "I just want to know that everyone's aware of what we're doing."

Colm threw an arm around her shoulder. "Just because we're not Ravenclaws doesn't mean we're stupid."

* * *

The tunnel to the Shrieking Shack was dank and flush with the smell of abandonment. The Whomping Willow, now bereft of the long-obsolete enchantment which had earned its name, stood forlornly over the entrance. During the trudging walk, Al, James, and Scorpius discussed possibilities for the first quidditch match of the term: Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw. Behind them, Colm and Rose walked slowly, lost in their own thoughts.

As they emerged into the Shack, Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. It smells like old dog in here."

"Old wet dog," Al added. "With mange."

"That died," Colm agreed.

"Well, it hasn't really been touched in twenty years," James said.

"Actually, it hasn't been touched since July 1998," Rose piped up. "Which would be twenty-four years."

As one, all four boys rolled their eyes.

In what would have once been the sitting room, James put the wireless on the floor and switched it on. Immediately, a wizarding newscast filled the room.

"In the United States today, the Muggle president began talks with the Prime Minister regarding nuclear threats from -" James clicked the station to music and began muttering charms and waving his wand.

The set gave a small pop, followed by the crackle of static before they began to hear a very different kind of sound.

"Is this it?" Scorpius asked eagerly. "I've never heard Muggle music."

James nodded but said nothing as the surprisingly soothing melody echoed through the long-abandoned house.

Colm held a hand out to Rose. "Would ye care to dance, m'lady?"

Rose scoffed. "What am I? Some kind of damsel-in-distress?" But she took his hand, anyway.

They spent the next few hours flipping through Muggle stations, dancing to music, laughing at radio programmes, and listening horrified to news reports.

"Piss," James blurted, looking out the window. "It's almost sundown. If we're not back before dark, Howard's going to give us detention again."

Al laughed. "Don't have to worry about Gryffindor prefects in the dungeon."

"Or Ravenclaw tower," Rose added.

Colm and James muttered obscenities at the sixth years.

"So, same time tomorrow?" Scorpius asked.

Rose smirked. "No. Tomorrow, we're going to the library."

James groaned.


	4. Part 1, ch3: Letters from the Interim

Albus Potter to Teddy Lupin

15 March 2022

Dear Teddy,

Life at Hogwarts is pretty mad this term. I have my O.W.L.s in June, so Rose has been making Scorpius and I buckle down a bit more than necessary.

I've noticed some odd things happening with the Ministry lately. Dad's been getting orders from Lathrop and not from Kingsley. I don't think he knows I know, but I heard he and uncle Ron talking about it.

Also, Nicholas Halliwell's father was arrested for having a toaster. Just a plain toaster! Nick's a 4th year, and he's not going to see his dad again until after he's started his 7th year.

It looks to me like it all traces back to Lathrop. You're closer to all of this than I am, and I want to know what you think. I know I'm not crazy.

Can you tell me what's going on?

Cheers,

Al

* * *

Interdepartmental Memo, 17 January 2020

PWC to: All Depts. RE: M.o.M.A.

The terms defining punishable offences in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts as outlined in Article S12679 section 5-13 have been extended as follows:

Possession of the following items is now punishable by a fine of no less than fifty galleons:

Muggle currency

Muggle literature of a non-theological nature

Muggle music of any kind

Muggle photographs or works of art

Muggle films not containing any reference to "magic"

Foods, clothing, housewares, etc. produced by Muggle corporations or through non-magical means

Any form of Muggle entertainment, including playing cards, "board games", etc.

Possession of the following items is punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban for a period of no less than three months and no longer than five years:

Muggle literature of a theological nature

Muggle films or literature containing reference to "magic" of any kind

Any device which is powered by non-magical means, especially those run on electricity or "batteries"

Distribution of any non-permissible item or items will be punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban for a period of no less than one year and no more than twenty-five years.

* * *

Teddy Lupin to Albus Potter

16 March 2022

Al,

You're crazy. What's with the conspiracy theories? Shut up before you piss someone off.

Teddy

* * *

Interdepartmental Memo, 1 June 2021

PWC to: All Depts. RE: suspected Ministry personnel

Reports have been filed RE: Ministry personnel believed to be in possession of non-permissible Muggle items. Any suspicious activity should be reported to Principia Periweather, Head of Investigation in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.

All personnel are reminded that Ministry employees suspected of being in violation of these laws may be subject to immediate dismissal.

Percy Weasley to Arthur Weasley

* * *

7 November 2019

Dad,

I don't want to alarm you, but there's some things you need to know. I can't risk a memo, and I don't know when I'll be able to make it to the Burrow.

There's some legislation about to go into effect, or rather addendums to older laws. MoMA is about to be turned on its head.

You need to leave before things get any farther. If you wait too long, you'll be in a bad position and quitting will look suspicious.

I'm stuck, unfortunately, but you've got a short window before these changes hit the floor.

I'll try to stop by soon.

Take care,

Percy


	5. Part 1, chapter 4

"D'you remember our evaluations?" Ron said, for what must have been the fifth time since leaving the Ministry. "We had to clean out that old hag's house in Southwark. You remember. The curtains tried to strangle Curtis? _That _was a challenge. Real Auror's work, y'know. Not confiscating some bloke's W.C."

"PC," Harry corrected absently.

"Whichever. We ought to be busting smuggling rings of dark artefacts, not hassling some old geezer."

Harry said nothing. Ron had been complaining consistently for the better part of an hour, and, though the sound was starting to grate, he agreed with his friend. Their job was to keep people safe from dark magic, not to enforce Daniel Lathrop's reactionary, Muggles-are-evil dogma.

Behind them, a group of trainees in their last year trailed along, looking anxious. This was to be their first field evaluation, and they would be led, Harry had noted with mixed pride and apprehension, by Art Weasley. He had not seen his nephew since the young man had followed Teddy and Victoire out of the D.A. reunion, but he knew that Percy tended to get very quiet with his oldest son was mentioned. Art had greeted Harry and Ron with a curt nod, then gone to stand with the rest of his team.

They had apparated a block away from their target location and walked the rest of the way. Harry didn't like sneaking up on people, especially on search and seizures for M.o.M.A. violations. Part of him hoped that Mr. Wilhem Meeks of number seven Acromantula Terrace would see them coming and have time to hide or destroy his illegal items.

"Did you see Ignacius Halliwell got arrested for having a toaster?" Ron said, breaking into his thoughts.

"What was wrong with it?" he asked, vaguely remembering the report being one of a very large stack regarding similar arrests several months prior.

"Nothing!" replied Ron. "It was just a toaster."

"Guess it's a crime to like extra crispy toast now," Harry muttered bitterly.

When they were within sight of the house, he stopped and turned to face the trainees. "We're now within operation distance of the target," he said. "Team leader, tell me what we're doing here."

Art stepped forward, eyes sharp and focused, his broad shoulders towering over the other recruits. "A resident of seven Acromantula Terrace is believed to be in possession of an illegal Muggle device known as a 'computer'." His voice was strong and certain. Clearly, he had no hesitations about this assignment. "This device has been declared non-threatening, so our team will perform a simple search and seizure, collect the computer and any other illicit items, and arrest the resident."

"Excellent," Harry said approvingly, and it was. Art had a firm grasp of the situation, but there were still details to see to. "Does anybody here know what a computer looks like?"

"I do, sir," announced a dark-haired wizard at the back of the group.

"Good. What if it's been transfigured or is under a glamour?"

"Revealing spell," a thin, freckled witch suggested.

"The powering charm emits a low hum and a small amount of heat," said the wizard at the back. "If the device is running, we should know just being near it."

"Great." Harry had seen this group through three years of training and had no doubt they knew what they were doing. Still, there was one last thing. He turned to a witch with short sandy hair and asked, "What is the resident's name?"

"I…" she gaped. "Sir, I… I don't know, sir."

"Anybody else?" he queried the group at large.

"Does it matter?" Art countered coldly. "We're seizing illegal items, not constructing a profile."

"You should be aware of what you're facing," Harry replied evenly. "You never know what may be important."

"Wilhem Meeks," said the freckled witch. "Age fifty-two. Retired herbologist."

"Which means…?" he prompted.

"Which means he won't put up much of a fight," said Art sharply. "So what are we waiting for?"

Harry nodded and stepped aside, gesturing them past. "Proceed at your discretion."

Ron looked as though he might have strangled his nephew but restrained himself admirably.

* * *

The Tuesday after their first visit to the Shrieking Shack, the group decided to meet again. Since Al was out of class before the others, he volunteered to get everything set up before they arrived.

The day was unusually cold for early October, and he wrapped his coat tightly around himself. The tunnel to the Shack seemed even colder than the open air, and he shivered in the gust of wind that ripped through the passage.

Al spent his time thinking of the second Hogsmeade weekend in which he and Scorpius were planning to sneak into the Hog's Head. The plan's perfection rested on Rose convincing Colm to filch James's invisibility cloak, which they would use to get inside, "steal" some firewhiskey, and leave the galleons on a table for Aberforth. Al smirked as he emerged into the Shack. October would be a brilliant month if they could keep Rose from finding out exactly why they needed the cloak.

He set his books on the floor and conjured a chair, then turned on the wireless to some wizarding music and plopped down. As he was about to adjust the set to get the Muggle broadcasts, he heard a noise behind him.

"Did you get-?" he began, but stopped short when he realised it was not one of his friends who stood there but the Wizarding Culture professor, Areopagus O'Brien.

* * *

Percy walked into the Minister's office looking tired and ruffled. "Aloysius Stanton has been sacked."

Kingsley looked up, surprised. "Sacked? How?"

"Well, not so much 'sacked' as 'firmly retired'," Percy clarified.

Kingsley's shoulders slumped, and he set down his quill. "He was our last hold in Magical Creatures. That's four in six months."

"I know," Percy said, sitting down across from the Minister. "And there's going to be more."

Kingsley peered at him sharply. "You know something, Weasley?"

"I don't know anything, sir," Percy replied. "Wish I did. But I can see where things are going."

"And?"

"And I don't like it."

Kingsley dropped his head into his hands, muttering. "Merlin help us. I'm too old for this."

"Yes, sir. I'd heard that one," Percy said simply and received a look that was clearly Not Amused. Nonplussed, he continued. "The rumour mill's working in overdrive. These days, it's grounds for dismissal if the cleaning witch says she saw you with a ball point pen."

Kingsley snorted, but Percy shook his head. "I'm not joking. Ferguson Flowering has a hearing today for just that reason."

"This is ridiculous," Kingsley spat and rose to pace behind his desk.

"Yes," Percy agreed. "But it's also dangerous."

The Minister sighed and stood still, but did not sit. After a pause, he turned back to his aide. "How's Arthur holding up?"

"Not well," admitted Percy. "Things are getting rough in his department, and dad just doesn't know what to do."

"Hard to imagine your dad running the most feared department in the Ministry."

"That's just it though. He's not running things. Periweather is."

"And she's taking Lathrop's orders."

"She doesn't need orders. She's a bitch all on her own."

Kingsley gave him a warning glance, then asked. "How about the rest of the family?"

Percy seemed to consider where to begin. "Gideon's taken on more hours at Gringott's. Much to his mother's displeasure."

Kingsley nodded, understanding. "At least he's not an Auror."

At this, Percy flinched visibly. If Kingsley noticed, however, he showed no sign. "Bloody brute squad now," he continued. "Potter's doing the best he can, but that cretin McClaggen's calling most of the shots."

"He's Lathrop's blunt instrument," Percy observed. "Dumb as the day is long, but effective."

"I wish blunt instruments were all we had to deal with," Kingsley growled, then turned to Percy thoughtfully. "You give any credence to these stories about Lathrop and the werewolves?"

"I wish it were as far-fetched as it sounds," he replied. "But I know that Lathrop's been in close contact with Larentia Cale, and that doesn't bode well."

"He's out of his mind. That pack of Cale's is little better than a bunch of terrorists."

"It's Fenrir Greyback's old pack," Percy said. "They're sticking to his ideals."

"You call that set of blood-thirsty rhetoric ideals?"

"No, but Cale does. And Lathrop's certainly not fighting her."

Kingsley sank back into his chair. "Seem we're fighting a war on two fronts, aren't we?"

Percy's voice was even, betraying none of the creeping dread that had begun to haunt his nightmares and waking moments. "No, sir. We're surrounded."

* * *

The walk down the long tunnel from the Shrieking Shack was silent. Al, under O'Brien's orders, said nothing. He had contained the instinct to flinch when the professor had gathered up the wireless to bring along.

His giant hand had not once left Al's arm as they made their way out of the tunnel and onto the campus lawn. As they passed onto the castle grounds, Al stared up at the windows and thought he could see Scorpius and Rose watching him from an upper level.

He heaved an inward sigh of relief that they were not heading to the shack.

Outside the door to O'Brien's office, D came waddling around the corner. "Professor! Professor O'Brien!"

O'Brien froze, body tense. Al felt the teacher force himself into a relaxed attitude as he turned to face the young Gryffindor. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dursley?" His mouth twisted into a slim smile that did not meet his eyes.

"I had a question about our essay. Y'see, I've been-" O'Brien held up a hand, and D stopped.

"Can we talk about this in my office at, say, two o'clock tomorrow?"

D grinned. "Of course. Thanks." With that, he turned and disappeared around the corner from which he'd come.

The smile vanished from O'Brien's face, and he opened the door. Releasing Al's arm, he gestured for the student to enter ahead of him. Al thought he felt something brush past his arm before he walked inside.

O'Brien's office was dim and cluttered. All four walls were covered in bookshelves, and only a small piece of window peaked from between the stacks behind the teacher's desk. Al made a cursory inspection of the books and found many tomes on Magical Law and Law Enforcement and a considerable number of Muggle studies volumes. He noticed an entire collection of books by Alfred Selwyn that were blocked when O'Brien sat down.

"Mr. Potter," O'Brien began. "Would you care to explain why you were out of campus bounds this afternoon?"

Al had no need to hesitate. After all, he'd been given almost half an hour to formulate a good excuse. "I just wanted some peace and quiet. I knew there wouldn't be much noise out there."

"And that's why you were expecting someone else?" O'Brien leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, blue eyes piercing beneath his dark, shaggy eyebrows.

"I wasn't really expecting anyone, professor," Al said in his best innocent voice.

O'Brien's eyes narrowed. "Oh, you certainly seemed surprised to see me, but you spoke to someone else, first."

As O'Brien was speaking, Al felt a finger very forcefully press into his shoulder. He fought the instinct to jump, but it only took him a moment to realise it was probably James under the invisibility cloak.

"Well, I'm not the only one who knows about the tunnel." Desperately, Al hoped that James was in the room. The more people who knew what story he'd told the professor, the better.

O'Brien nodded but didn't seem convinced. "Who else knows about the entrance to the Shrieking Shack?"

Al shrugged. "I dunno. Lots of people."

"Lots of people, hmm? Stands to reason your siblings know of it, then."

Again, Al shrugged, heart pounding. "Well, sure, and just about anyone else whose parents were here when ours were, and their friends. Like I said, lots."

O'Brien glared at him for a few long moments before smirking and lifting the wireless off the floor. "Alright then, what do you know about this?"

"Nothing. It was there when I got there."

"And you just decided to turn it on and fiddle with it? I thought you wanted quiet?" O'Brien's smirk widened.

"I did, but music's not really noise, not like the common room."

"I think you're lying to me." O'Brien's voice was steady and reasonable, but Al was taken aback by the malice in his tone.

"I don't know what to tell you, sir. The wireless was already there." He hoped he didn't sound too innocent, or too guilty.

"I ran some tests on it. Did you know that someone's been using the set to listen to Muggle broadcasts?"

Al let his eyes go wide in astonishment. "Muggle stations? That's illegal."

"I know." There was another long pause. "I don't believe you, Potter, but I can't prove anything. Nevertheless, you were out of campus bounds, and you will serve detention with me for three hours every Saturday for the remainder of this half."

This time, the surprise on Al's face was genuine. "But, sir, what about Hogsmeade?"

O'Brien grinned. "Since you decided to venture off campus, maybe you'll learn your lesson by being forced to stay on it."


	6. Part 1, chapter 5

Principia Periweather could have been thirty-five or fifty-five, and Teddy was not prepared to hazard a guess. Her small, dishwater eyes peered at him from behind squared spectacles, and her ashen blonde hair was pulled back so fiercely it seemed in danger of being ripped away from her face.

"It is not my job," she informed him icily. "To pull up reports of illicit activity for every overzealous prosecutor who manages to bluff and bluster his way into my office. You can go to the Hall of Records, just like everyone else."

Teddy was rapidly loosing patience. "These reports haven't been sent to Records, yet. The complaints were only filed this morning."

"If that is the case," she replied, unwavering. "Then how is it that you come to be looking for documents which have been seen by no one other than myself and the persons by whom they were filed?"

"Secretary Lathrop asked me to look over them," he said. "And I need them now."

Periweather stared at him, as though uncertain of the validity of this claim. Then she pursed her thin lips and asked coldly. "Which reports did you want?"

Back in his office, Teddy sifted through the files, attempting to identity a coherent thread. Daniel had reason to believe, or so he had told Teddy, that certain Ministry officials might try to circumvent the system in order to retain specific illegal and potentially dangerous items. The young man's job was to assemble a case that might be brought to bear in such an event.

Teddy found himself disgusted by the thought that people entrusted with positions of power would take advantage of that trust. Even more, that they would do so in order to work counter to what was clearly in the best interest of the wizarding world.

As he set aside one report, a young intern stuck her head in and said, "Mr. Lupin, there's someone here to see you."

"Um." Teddy was puzzled. He had very few visitors at work, and most would have shown no more formality then knocking. "Okay. Well, send them in."

The intern disappeared, and he made a hasty attempt at straightening his desk. In the middle of doing this, he froze, instincts screeching, and he knew, without looking, who it was that had come to see him.

Lycanthropy is a disease transferable only through the bite of a werewolf in the transformed state; it is not inheritable. Certain secondary traits of the affliction, however, may be passed on. Teddy had discovered, for instance, a sensitivity to the presence of lycanthropes, as well as an instinct for determining the arrangement of hierarchies within given groups. Because of this, he was immediately aware, not only that a werewolf had entered the room, but also that this werewolf was a leader, an alpha, and female.

Since he only knew of one female alpha currently living, he straightened slowly and greeted his guest. "Miss Cale," he said evenly. "What can I do for you?"

He had never seen Larentia Cale before, even in photographs, and was startled by the contained ferocity of her appearance. Her stark black robes hung strangely, as though she wore them only as a concession to customs which were beneath her. Her straight black hair was plaited down her back, but this seemed less a gesture of fashion and more means of keeping it out of her way. She stood awkwardly, hunched as if unused to remaining upright for so long, but with such overwhelming certainty and confidence that Teddy felt inclined to take a step backward.

"I think there are many things you might do for me, Theodore Remus Lupin," she said in a voice that rolled and tumbled over fissures in a mouth she did not like. "And still more we might do for each other." Her slitted, feral eyes roved over him, and tip of pink tongue flickered at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh?" Teddy struggled to maintain his composure. "And what might that be?" His immediate instinct was to be courteous and accommodating, to treat her as a superior, but the fear and fury she inspired won out over the lycanthropic sensitivities.

"I have come to give you a place in our pack."

"You…" Teddy gaped. "Wait. What?"

"Your father was one of our pack," she replied tonelessly. "You should be with us also."

"My…" he trailed off, lost in a swirl of thoughts and memories, of stories memorized from infancy. He thought of his father, the martyred hero, clever and courageous, daring and loyal. His father the werewolf, who had braved the wrath of the Ministry to marry the woman he loved. His father the warrior. Then he thought of his godfather's ragged photo album, of a picture stuck between the pages which showed a worn and beaming man holding a turquoise-haired baby. He thought of the gentleness in his father's smile and look squarely at Larentia Cale. "No."

Her eyes narrowed. "Your father was a wolf. You should honour him."

"My father fought _against_ the ideals you're spouting. He was never proud of being a werewolf." Teddy's temper rose, his hands clenched tightly. "He may have been turned by Fenrir Greyback, but he was never one of the pack."

"All who were turned were part of the pack, but some turned their backs on it. You should make up for your father's weakness. Be one of us and keep the memory he should have left you."

"By giving myself a disease and becoming a terrorist?" he snapped. "I don't think so."

"Daniel Lathrop wishes it."

That brought Teddy up short. "You're lying."

"I have no cause to lie. He has told me much of you."

Teddy shook his head, disbelieving. "No. I don't want anything to do with you and your flea-bitten band of militants." The sense of danger in the room was so sharp, Teddy could smell it. Volatile anger rolled off Cale in waves, but Teddy, also, was angry. "Get out."

The shift in her stance was almost undetectable, but suddenly she looked ready to attack. In the space of two breaths, Teddy's wand was in his hand. "Do not turn your back on us, _Lupin,_" she growled, voice so guttural the English was almost lost.

"Would you prefer to face me?" he dared. "Because that can be arranged."

For a single, fearsome moment, he thought she might accept the challenge, but, after a tense pause, she said, "A room of law is no place for a death-fight. But know that we are not through. You will suffer for this insult."

"Get out," was all he could manage in reply. His throat felt constricted with rage and a deep fear of what this creature could do to him. Wordlessly, she stalked through the door, looking up in annoyance as an interdepartmental memo zoomed in over her head.

In the wake of her departure, the density of the air cleared and Teddy sank into his chair, struggling to keep his hands from trembling. He looked down at the memo, which had unfolded itself neatly on his desk.

It was a note from Daniel Lathrop, inviting him to lunch, and it was spread atop a suspicion report filed that very morning against Hermione Weasley.


	7. Part 1, chapter 6

When Al walked into O'Brien's office, he was surprised to find that he was not alone. He could just see the back of a head with short red hair.

"Lily?"

His younger sister spun in her chair, big brown eyes blinking at him. "Al? What are you doing here?"

"I got caught in the Shrieking Shack. Why are you here?"

"Hugo and I were trying to convince Peeves to get into one of the suits of armour and chase around some first years. O'Brien caught us."

Al cringed. "And where is your better half?"

At that moment, the door flew open, hitting him roughly in the back. He stumbled forward and looked up in time to see his cousin dart into the room, grinning. Hugo and Lily shared a glance that Al found strangely frightening.

He had time enough to sit in the only empty chair before O'Brien came in. Al thought he was a brave, or perhaps stupid, man to have left the two fourth years alone in his office.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Potter. You three have been assigned detention with me for at least the next four weekends. That is correct?"

Al resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. They were all aware of their punishments.

"We will move to my classroom before commencing. You will each take one of those books and follow me." He gestured to a stack of Muggle Studies books on his desk.

They did as they were told, collecting three of the fraying volumes and filing after O'Brien. Once they had settled into their desks, he explained, "Many of my students are younger and might have some difficulty comprehending such complicated material. You three are going to lend a hand to your schoolmates by providing simple summaries of the texts. Do you have any questions?" They shook their heads. "Good. There is your ink and parchment. I shall be in my office." With the ghost of a smirk, he added," Try not to have too much fun."

Al, Hugo, and Lily waited until the professor disappeared, then Hugo moaned, "He has us doing other people's homework? Ech!"

Al looked at Lily, who was flipping through her text, _Social Disruption in Muggle Popular Music_ by Alfred Selwyn, with a faintly distasteful expression. "These things are ancient! This one's from 1962. Who needs this stuff, really?" She turned a few more pages and sighed. "Guess we should get started," she said, grabbing the materials she needed. Al and Hugo followed suit, and silence descended upon the room, interrupted occasionally by the crackle of pages and the scratching of quills.

Al skimmed the preface and introduction to Selwyn's twelve-hundred-twenty-nine-page _A Brief Discussion of Muggle Warfare, _1947, decided that first years probably didn't need to know about Manhattan or some Fat Man in Japan, and skipped ahead to the first chapter. After struggling through a few impossibly dry paragraphs, he came to the conclusion that a great deal of talent must be required to make a description of sword fighting seem less interesting than a treatise on Latvian Lullaby Ivy, which he still needed to read for Herbology. He scribbled a few lines, condensing the entire first page into two sentences with, he thought, reasonable success. He was about to tackle the second page when Lily gave a loud snort.

"Merlin's pants!" she giggled. "Listen to this! _The unrestrained permissiveness lauded in the lyrics of 'rock and roll music' threatened to unleash anarchy upon ordered society, just as the outrageous fashions and behaviour of 'rock musicians', often treated as religious icons, created a wave of sexual deviance across America_."

Hugo blinked. "So.. listening to rock 'n roll makes you a poof?"

"Sounds like, doesn't it?" Lily said, still sniggering.

Al laughed. "And an anarchist, apparently."

Lily almost choked. "Death to the system! Put on some Elvis!" she cried, pumping her fist in the air. Hugo nearly fell out of his chair laughing, and Al, also, was having trouble breathing. Encouraged, Lily leapt to her feet, arms raised. "We'll tear down the walls with Ritchie Valens! We'll overthrow the Ministry with Bu-"

"Ahem."

Lily jumped and set her desk wobbling at the sound. The three of them spun to find O'Brien standing in the door to his office, looking annoyed. "Oh, don't stop on my account," he said. "Sounds like you're just getting into your stride."

Lily flushed and sat down, but now looked truly rebellious.

"I'm glad to see you find the text engaging," O'Brien continued. "Only do try for a little less conversation." Tensely, he added, "You might try taking the material seriously. Never know what you might learn."

When he had gone, the three students exchanged looks. In an undertone, Hugo sang, "_A little less conversation, a little more action_," and Lily snorted. Al grinned and wondered idly how long it would take his sister and cousin to get expelled. Although, he thought, they had made it this far.

The next two and a half hours passed uneventfully. Occasionally, Lily and Hugo would pass notes and whisper quietly so that Al could not hear, but, with the exception of intermittent snickering, detention was spent quietly.

At the end of the allotted time, O'Brien came to collect their notes. "I'll see you next Saturday," he said with a smile that was strangely sincere and sent them on their way.

In the corridor, out of earshot of O'Brien's classroom, Lily and Hugo looked at each other and burst into laughter. Al eyed them with apprehension, but, as it did not appear they would be explaining themselves soon, he asked, "What did you do?"

"We… we charmed th-… the p-" Lily gasped but could not catch her breath long enough to form a sentence. Hugo was bent double, shaking so hard with mirth that he fell over onto his backside. Wheezing, he handed Al a piece of parchment covered in an even, blocky hand. Al read the first few lines summarising Selwyn's take on Muggle transportation, but then, around the fourth line, the letters started dancing, making the text impossible to read. He could have sworn he saw bits of the word 'locomotive' doing the cha-cha.

Gaping, he stared at them. "You're mental, both of you. O'Brien's going to have your heads."

Lily's laughter had subsided enough for her to answer. "He won't know," she said, wiping her eyes. "The paper's charmed so only he can see it right."

Al shook his head and gave the parchment back to Hugo. "You two better be careful."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and who was it listening to Muggle radio in the Shack?"

Al shushed her quickly. "How do you know about that?"

"_Please_. We're related to half the school. Things get round."

"Alex told us," Hugo informed him, scrambling to his feet.

"Alex? Well how did he know?"

"Told by Henry who was told by Colm," Lily said as Hugo sauntered over to a massive antique vase stuck in a recess in the wall. "He seemed surprised we didn't know. Said something about he and Ed usually being the ones left out."

Al was about to make a disparaging comment about the twins' collective character when he caught sight of the device which had appeared in his cousin's hand. "Is that a sneakoscope?'

"Yep," Hugo chimed, stashing it in his robes. "Goes off when there's professors around. I had to hide it behind the vase to keep O'Brien from finding it."

"Who modified the charm?" Al asked, impressed.

"We did," Lily replied.

"Took us weeks to work it out. But them we got help from…" Hugo broke off at a look from Lily.

"We don't reveal the names of our accomplices," she said, a warning note in her voice. "Especially since Aunt Hermione likes to shout."

Al cringed, having been on the receiving end of his aunt's wrath many times.

A clattering in the adjoining corridor caught their attention. They looked around in time to see three first years run franticly past, followed closely by a moaning suit of armour, stalking along after them, brandishing a rusted spear.

"Whadaya know," Hugo muttered. "He actually did it."

"Go get 'em, Peeves!" Lily called, and the suit of armour gave a brie wave of acknowledgment and jogged onward. It was something, Al though, that members of their family still garnered some small deference from the poltergeist.

As the clanging of the armour faded away, the three of them set off down the winding hallways toward the library. "O'Brien's not real quick on the uptake, is he," Lily observed.

"What do you mean?" asked Al.

"Well he left us alone, didn't he," Hugo said. "And in his office, too. Not too bright on his part."

Al looked between the two of them. "You didn't do anything to it, did you?"

"Of course not!" Lily sounded affronted.

"We're not stupid," Hugo put in.

"He'd know it was us," added Lily.

"Besides," said Hugo. "We've got plans."

Al thought about asking what kind of plans exactly, but the familiar gleam of mischief in Lily's eye told him he'd find out soon enough.


	8. Part 1, chapter 7

Even if Harry had agreed with Lathrop's doctrine, he still would have taken issue with his methods, if for no other reason than the amount of paperwork generated by doubling the average number of arrests. Stacks of reports, complaints, caveats, addendums, approvals, and angry letters loomed menacingly over his desk. Had Harry been the sort to stay atop such things, the task might not have been so arduous. But adulthood had not tempered his distaste for filing and note-taking, and so avoidance had allowed the pile to reach nearly epic proportions.

In addition, someone in the Dark Enchantments Division had been careless, and a rogue spell had put the office's cooling charms on the fritz. Inwardly, Harry groused at the injustice that the former Hero of the Wizarding World was being forced to do paperwork in a stifling office, seriously considering the impropriety of doing his work in the nude.

Ron's abrupt entrance disrupted this train of thought. "I don't know how they do it," he declared, flinging the door closed.

"I assume you're referring to our children," Harry responded, not looking up from his notes.

"Detention!" Ron cried. "Not two months into term. What were they thinking?"

"That they wouldn't get caught, I imagine."

"They're supposed to be good kids." He dropped into the rickety chair across from Harry. "I honestly don't know where they get it."

Harry gave him a bemused look. "You do remember when we were at school, yeah?"

"Yeah, but we never got caught." Ron paused. "Okay, well, sometimes, but not for the big things."

"You would prefer they were fighting giant snakes and organizing an underground resistance movement?"

He seemed to consider this. "Lily could take a basilisk."

"Ron!" Harry looked up, horrified.

"I'm joking!" Ron held up his hands in surrender. Harry eyed his friend warningly, but before he could speak, the door opened again.

Cormack McClaggen strode in as if the small office was his own. Harry always had the distinct impression McClaggen thought it should have been.

"What do _you _want?" Ron snarled.

McClaggen ignored him and tossed a new sheaf of documents in the middle of Harry's desk, sending a few loose papers flying out of their places. "Got some stuff for you to sign," he said with malicious cheer.

"You may have noticed, I've got quite enough to do," Harry replied, trying very hard not clench his fist.

"Yeah, real busy gossiping with your sidekick," McClaggen sneered. "And anyway, these are priority."

Harry looked down the small pile before him. "Warrants? For wh-?" He examined the first paper more closely. "A coin collection? You want to arrest someone for having a coin collection?"

McClaggen shrugged. "Muggle currency. Bloke ought to have chucked it with the rest of the rubbish. Besides, the kid that owns it's only twelve. We got to settle for bringing his parents up on charges."

Ron's face contorted with disgust. "You sick bastard."

McClaggen regarded him with deepest contempt. "You got a problem, Weasley?"

Ron stood threateningly, fully half a head taller than McClaggen. "Several, but right now, I think a few of them might be solved by punching your teeth in."

Their noses were scarcely a breath apart, and Harry put a hand surreptitiously around his wand in case Ron decided to something stupid. "You wouldn't dare, you cunt-faced little snit," McClaggen growled. "I ought to have you sacked just for threatening me."

"Sacked?" Ron laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't think I can?" McClaggen challenged. "Just wait. Lathrop's been looking for an excuse to oust you two dissidents and you just gave me one."

Bright colour rose in Ron's cheeks. "You son of a –"

"Ron, sit down," Harry cut in, and, looking rebellious, his friend obeyed. To the jeering McClaggen, he said forcefully, "I'm not signing these."

McClaggen's grin widened. "Yes you are. And you know why? Because I said you are, _sir._"

Harry gritted his teeth. "Get out of my office."

Laughing, McClaggen replied, "Not yours much longer," and, with a casual wave, strutted back out.

Ron crossed his arms and grumbled, "Bastard. Hated him at school, hate him now."

Harry said nothing, only dropped his head into his hands and tried with all his might not to rage. After a moment, he heaved a sigh of resignation. "I need a drink."

"Second that," agreed Ron heartily. "You and Ginny still coming to dinner?"

"That depends. Are you cooking?"

"Merlin, no. I'm banned from the kitchen. Tried to make stew last week."

Harry grimaced. "Had to throw out another pot, hunh?"

"They're defective, I'm telling you," he insisted. "And anyway, 'Mione's got some new recipe she's trying out."

Harry thought that this might also be a legitimate reason to beg out, but he didn't say so. Ron had a strangely fervent devotion to Hermione's cooking and would not abide insults. Though, in Harry's experience, her new recipes tended to be hit-or-miss.

As it turned out, the thick, lumpy sauce Hermione had produced was edible, if not delectable, and the four of them sat together in the living room after dinner, contented.

"It's obscene!" Hermione was saying angrily. "They want to do things that are illegal, so they find ways to change the law. Eventually, they won't even have to. They'll just do whatever they like, and there won't be anything to stop them."

"There'll be us," Ron assured her. "They might change things around, but there's only so much they can get away with."

"And you're going to stop them, are you?" Ginny queried, a trace of amusement in her voice. "You're going to march right in there and tell Lathrop to knock it off?"

He glared at her. "I might."

"And get mauled by werewolves in the process," Harry put in. "Cale's got two of her guard dogs prowling the hall outside his office."

Ginny snickered and suggested, "Maybe you can just send him a very angry letter, then."

Ron made a face at his sister, then suddenly seemed to remember something. "Speaking of angry writing…"

"Angie's birthday is next week," Hermione finished his thought. "Yes, we know. I already got her present."

"Oh, good," he said, relieved. "Never know what to get her."

"She said the next person who gives her a scarf is gonna get strangled with it," Ginny told him.

Harry tried not to laugh, but Ron snorted. "She'd do it, too. So what do you get for the woman who can't say thank you?" Hermione slapped his arm.

"George got her a necklace," Ginny said with significant looks at both her brother and her husband. "It's nice, too."

Ron looked slightly uncomfortable but asked Hermione. "So what did we get her?"

She seemed to consider this question, then said, "I think I'll let it be a surprise."

As Ron protested, Harry turned thoughtfully to Ginny. "Yes, we got her something," she replied before he could speak. "Yes, she'll like it, and no, I'm not telling you what it is." Harry nodded, acquiescent, and sipped quietly at his wine.

Slowly, the conversation turned, as it often did, back to Ministry politics. Hermione railed about Lathrop's policies, and Harry and Ron discussed tensions in their department.

"The worst bit, though," Ron insisted, "is that these are really smart people. And they're lapping up Lathrop's piss."

"It's the same everywhere," said Hermione. "He's got most of the Ministry eating out of his hand."

"What about Art and Teddy?" Ginny asked. "Percy said he hasn't heard from Art in weeks."

"That's because he's got his head so far up his…"

"Ron," Hermione cut him off.

"He'll come round," Harry said with a confidence he scarcely felt. "He and Teddy, both. They're smart enough to see what's going on."

"I certainly hope so," Ginny murmured, taking his hand.

After a moment, Ron said, "You ask me, all this feels a little too familiar."

No one responded. A chill seemed to have descended upon their warm, comfortable evening.


	9. Part 1, ch8: Letters from the Interim

_The Daily Prophet_, 14 July 2022

The Department of Magical Education announced today that a new class will be added to the curriculum at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The class, An Introduction to Wizarding Culture, is the first new course at the school since Muggle Studies was introduced in 1918. The course of study is designed to proceed across three levels and will be mandatory for first, second and third year students of non-magical parentage.

Professor Areopagus O'Brien, age 48, told reporters that he is looking forward to taking up his new post at the school.

"I have many fond memories of Hogwarts," said O'Brien. "I'm very excited to have this opportunity."

Of the current Hogwarts staff, only Sybil Trelawney, professor of Divination, was available for comment.

"There are great trials ahead! Great trials, indeed!" Trelawney, 73, told the _Prophet_, adding, "Beware!"

* * *

Report of Suspicion of Illicit Activity

filed 14 February 2022

Suspected Ministry Employee: Stanislaus Macbrin, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Suspected Activity: possession of Muggle recordings

Reason for Suspicion: overheard in conversation with F. Flowering

Report Filed By:  no name given 

* * *

Henry Weasley to Alicia Weasley

1 September 2018

Mum,

Hallo. I'm in Gryffindor. Art let me sit with him in the Great Hall. He's a really good Prefect. Gideon's a good Prefect, too, I guess. He's too bossy.

I miss you and Dad already. I know a couple of people in my year, but they're all in different houses.

Professor Longbottom said to tell you and Dad hello. He said that I could come talk to him anytime, even if it's as a friend and not as my Head of House.

I'm really looking forward to class tomorrow. Maybe I'll do as well as Art. I don't know.

I miss you. And Ed and Alex, too.

Henry


	10. Part 1, chapter 9

"Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get into?" Rose demanded, glaring around the table at her confederates.

"I _told _you she'd say that," Lily groaned at Al.

"Why'd you have to get them in?" Hugo pouted.

"If I'm in, they're in," Al replied sharply.

"Besides," James put in, "You can't do this on your own."

Lily and Hugo gave him a look that clearly communicated their reservations in regard to his intelligence.

One evening shortly before Halloween, Rose, Al, Scorpius, Lily, Hugo, James, and Colm were all gathered in an abandoned nook in the library. Lily and Hugo had told Al to meet them there to discuss plans about revenge on O'Brien, so of course Al had invited Scorpius and Rose, and Rose had invited Colm, who had invited James. Lily and Hugo had been equally shocked and irritated to realize that their planning session had grown to include so many of their relatives.

Colm leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We've all got a problem with O'Brien."

"He didn't put _you _in detention," Lily pointed out.

"No," James allowed, "But he interfered with our mischief. And for that, immediate retribution is in order."

A slow grin curved across Lily's face, accompanied by a fierce glint in her brown eyes. At last, they had an understanding.

"Besides," Scorpius chimed in. "The more of us there are, the more we can do."

"Yeah, but little miss Prefect doesn't wanna do it," said Lily, jerking her head at Rose.

"I never said I wouldn't do it," Rose protested.

Hugo looked curiously at his sister. "But you said…"

"I said we'd be in trouble if we got caught," she corrected, "But I've got a great idea."

Lily was obviously doubtful. "Well?" she asked, as all heads turned to Rose. "Enlighten us, then."

"I think that…" Rose began, but paused to look furtively around and muttered "Muffliato" before she continued.

So engrossed were the students in their plans for vengeance, they had not noticed the inhabitant of a nearby portrait listening closely to their conversation, and they did not notice now as the portrait's subject abandoned his frame.

The stately gentleman in the picture, the late potions master Christophe Coerdechou, considered warning professor O'Brien of this impending misfortune, but, truth be told, he found the man quite odious and believed he knew of someone else who might be more appreciative of the information.

With casual swiftness, he made his way across his fellow portraits to a secluded corner near the spiral staircase up to the North Tower. In the recess, a skinny boy with a shock of red hair was sitting cross-legged on the flagstones, listening eagerly to the heated debate being waged between the denizens of two neighbouring portraits.

Politely, Coerdechou elbowed his way into the frame nearest the boy, offering a warm greeting.

"Hello, professor," the young man returned brightly. "How's things?"

"Quite well, Henry, thank you." Despising small talk, Coerdechou came directly to his purpose. "Did you know your cousins are plotting to take revenge against a professor?"

Henry tilted his head. "Who? O'Brien?"

"Ah, so you do know."

"They didn't tell me, if that's what you mean." There was no bitterness in his voice, but the corner of his mouth quirked downward.

"Then how…?"

"You don't interfere with a Weasley's mischief," Henry replied in a tone that brokered no contradiction.

Coerdechou regarded him thoughtfully. "You do quite take after your uncles," he observed, at which Henry flushed and ducked his head. "In light of which fact," Coerdechou continued, "You may wish to share your insights with the other scions of Weasley. They seem rather directionless."

"Was it Lily and Hugo's idea?" Henry asked.

"That appears to be the case, yes."

"Terrific," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "They'll burn down the school if they're not careful." The former professor looked horrified, and Henry quickly reassured him. "Not actually, though. I'm exaggerating. Well, mostly. Where are they?"

"Near my portrait in the library. I believe Miss Rose has cast some sort of privacy spell."

Henry rolled his eyes. "She'd better be glad Uncle Ron taught her that one." As he took off down the corridor, he called back, "Thanks, professor!" and disappeared around a corner.

Coerdechou sighed. He knew it was too much to hope that young Henry might dissuade his cousins from their course, but he might keep them from being expelled. And the old potions master had grown quite fond of having Weasleys and Potters around. At least they kept things interesting.

In the library, the pragmatics of Rose's scheme were being discussed.

"I can work out the trigger spell," Colm was saying, "But you'll have to charm each desk, and that'll take time."

"You could have them in chorus," Scorpius suggested.

"That'd be faster," agreed Hugo, but Rose shook her head.

"There's a way to cast a general object charm with individual variations," she said. "I just have to look it up again."

James nodded. "So how l-?"

"You'll want to hit someone else, as well."

Seven heads spun to find that Henry had materialized from among the stacks.

"How did you…?" Lily began, but Henry waved her silent.

"Dispell _muffliato_," he told Rose. "I can't hear you."

Stunned, she obeyed and cast the spell again as soon as he was seated.

"How do you know what we're doing?" demanded Lily sharply.

"_Do _you know what we're doing?" asked Hugo.

"You're getting O'Brien back for putting you in detention," Henry replied simply.

"And for being a general pain in the arse," added James.

"You'll want to get some of the other professors, too," Henry said. "Even if he can't prove it, he'll know it was you. So you have to make it look like he's not the only target."

"So what we do to him…" Hugo began.

"We do to someone else," Lily finished, grinning wickedly. "Spread the chaos around."

Henry shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. Al regarded him with curiosity and asked, "You got any ideas?"

Henry's mouth tugged upward, and he looked down at his hands. "A few."

"We'll have to orchestrate this really carefully," Rose put in.

"And we'll need a diversion," added Al.

James leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. With a grin to match his sister's, he said, "You can leave _that _to me."

* * *

A shriek of pain sounded down the stairs, followed by a loud crash. 

The four parents whose children were playing in an upstairs room exchanged looks.

"Prewet!" Hermione shouted in her most commanding voice. There was a series of thuds, then a small girl hastened breathlessly into the room, her bushy auburn hair flying at all angles.

"I didn't do it!" she declared. "Fred bit himself on the nose!" Ron burst into laughter but quickly stifled it as he received stern looks from both Hermione and George.

Behind Prewet, a little boy appeared in the doorway with two pieces of a toy broom in his hand and an angry red mark on his tiny freckled nose. He approached his parents slowly, looking slightly dazed.

"Are you okay?" George asked as Hermione summoned her daughter closer with an angry look.

Fred nodded slowly and held up the sad remains of his broom. "It broke," he murmured. George stroked his head comfortingly, and Angie reached out to take the toy. Placing the two halves end-to-end along the split, she wrapped her right hand around the fracture, and the ring on her finger shimmered. When she held the broom up for her son's inspection, Harry thought a professional broom maker would not have known it had ever been damaged.

Fred's face broke into a brilliant grin. His dark eyes, impossibly wide and a little too close together, sparkled with gratitude, and he hugged his mother tightly round her neck before darting back up the stairs.

Hermione was giving Prew a stern glare. "Did you break Freddie's broom?"

"No," the little girl pouted.

"Prewet."

"It was an accident!" she insisted. "He wouldn't let me play with it."

"So you bit him?"

Prew didn't seem to have a response for this, and she hung her head. Hermione sighed. "Promise to behave?" She nodded. "Alright, then, go on." Prewet gave her a smile to match Fred's and shot away after her cousin.

Angie shared a look with Hermione and shook her head. There was a whisper of silk from the deep green scarf that covered her mouth, and the topaz pendant George had given her swung hypnotically, stark against her black robes.

"They're gonna kill each other," Ron muttered.

Harry thought it much more likely that Prewet would kill Freddie and then die very slowly at the hands of her mother, but didn't say so. Instead, he surveyed the small, haphazard pile of opened presents on the coffee table. The homemade jumper Molly had sent was draped over a pair of magically cushioned boots from Percy. Beside them was the writing set Ginny had picked out, at which Angie had seemed both pleased and amused. Hermione's gift, however, was currently in Angie's lap being flipped though with positively gleeful enthusiasm. Harry imagined the ban on Muggle literature must have been particularly upsetting for her if she was so enthralled by a tattered, second-hand copy of the _Iliad. _

"How'd you get that, anyway?" he asked Hermione, nodding at the book which Percy and George were both reading over Angie's shoulder.

Hermione looked surprised. "At the book shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. Where did you think I'd got it? The black market?"

"Well it is illegal," Harry reminded her.

Ron laughed. "Maybe we ought to do our Aurorly duty and confiscate it."

"Then what?" George asked, looking bemused. "Are you going to arrest my wife?" Angie arched an eyebrow at Ron, who shrank back slightly.

"Merlin, no. I'm rather fond of my limbs, thanks."

Angie's ring glowed, and a bright silver light shot out, resolving itself into the form of a great eagle. Perching itself on Angie's shoulder, the patronus spoke in a woman's voice that sounded faintly of Cockney and whiskey and turning pages.

"Arrest me if you like. The book you'll have to pry from my cold, clutching fingers."

Hermione looked approving. Ron shook his head, staring at the silver bird. "I'll never get used to that."

The patronus, whom George had once christened Ferdinand, ruffled its feathers and seemed to stick out its tongue at Ron. The trick was certainly startling, Harry admitted, but it was useful and he wondered at the focus required to control the charm that way.

A knock at the door made them jump, and the patronus wavered but kept its form. Since Percy was the only one standing, he went to admit the new arrival, though no one else was expected.

From the sitting room, they heard the door open and Percy's tense voice. "What are you doing here?"

The reply was muffled, but it must have been to Percy's satisfaction because the sound of entering footsteps preceded the door closing. There was a short, muttered conversation, then Percy saying, with considerably less ire, "Well, go on, then," and Art Weasley appeared in the entrance.

"Come to make an arrest, have you?" growled Ron bitterly. Harry expected Hermione to slap her husband's arm, but she merely sat very still, looking impassive. Percy reentered after his son, a bit pale and clearly relieved.

Art, on the other hand, seemed to wish he could have been anywhere but there, with all these eyes upon him. He shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with the badly wrapped package in his hands. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak, until, finally, Art looked up at Ron and asked, "Did McClaggen really threaten to have you sacked?"

Ron was taken aback. "Yeah, he did."

Art nodded. "He was going on about how he put you in your place," he said, now addressing Harry, as well. "Said you'd be out on your arses when Lathrop makes his move."

"And what did you say?" Ron asked, eyes narrowing.

"I told him to shove it," Art replied flatly. "He's a prick anyway, and he should know better than to shoot his mouth off."

Ron positively beamed at his nephew. "Well done, then," he said and offered Art a drink.

Shyly, Art turned to Angie to hand over his gift, but he noticed the tatty book in her lap. "You know that's illegal," he warned. Angie's glare would have been chilling enough had it not been augmented by equally nasty looks from Hermione and the rather threatening Ferdinand. Art paled slightly and, with a muttered "Happy birthday", gave her the lumpy package.

When she had pulled open the paper, the patronus looked to Art and said, quite sincerely, "Thank you," as she held up a fine blue scarf, patterned with tiny golden birds.


	11. Part 1, chapter 10

The Great Hall was packed to overflowing with students crammed so tightly on the benches they scarcely had room to move their arms. No one seemed to mind the close quarters, though, since they were far more concerned with the piles of meat pies and pumpkin pasties, under whose weight the tables groaned.

For the dozenth time since the feast began, Al glanced toward the entryway, keeping an eye out for Henry. Beside him, Scorpius held an apple tart in one hand and a turkey leg in the other and was tearing into the latter as if he had not seen food in weeks.

"Unh orry. El ee ear," he said around a mouthful of poultry as Al looked at the door again.

"I'm not worried," muttered Al impatiently. "I just wanna get started."

Scorpius swallowed, cheeks turning pink from the effort. "Yeah, me too. 'S a good plan, though. Should go smoothly."

"_Should,_" Al emphasized. "Right now, it's up to Henry, then James, then us."

"Do you know what Lily and Hugo are doing?" asked Scorpius, looking faintly concerned.

Al shook his head. "They're doing it tonight, whatever it is. I just hope th-" He stopped short at the sight of a small red-headed figure strolling casually into the hall. Henry squeezed onto the bench beside James, and the two exchanged a slight nod. Al knew that, beneath the table, James would be pulling his wand and tapping it four times against the stone floor.

Show time.

"Ready?" He leaned over to Scorpius who nodded and shoved the remains of a pastry into his mouth.

For a moment, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Then, slowly, a great clattering sound, growing in volume, began to seep in beneath the roar of voices. Students and teachers left sentences unfinished as their attentions turned to the entrance and the outside hall. Suddenly, the sound stopped, replaced by whispers of confusion. Then, just as suddenly, the clattering resumed, louder this time and in an odd sort of rhythm.

A few students seated near the doors ventured out to investigate. Almost immediately, one of them raced back in and said to the hall at large, "The suits of armour are dancing!"

As one, most of the occupants rose and clambered for the door, Al and Scorpius among them. In the crush toward the line of battle suits performing a jerky can-can, James caught Al's eye and held up both hands, fingers spread. They had, at most, ten minutes before the charm wore off, less if the professors managed to break it. He and Scorpius would have to work fast.

With Scorpius clutching his sleeve, Al pushed through to the edge of the crowd and, with a quick glance backward, ducked around a corner. "Hope there's still some treacle left when we get back," Scorpius said.

"Not like you need it," Al responded, jabbing his friend in the gut.

Scorpius's smile faded, and his shoulders sagged as he shuffled over to a life-sized portrait of a young girl holding a lantern. Pointing at the lantern's dark glass, he muttered, "_Lumos_," and a soft light spilled out from its slats. Smiling, the girl beckoned him forward as her portrait swung open to reveal a narrow, circling staircase winding right through the spine of the castle.

"Have to thank Henry for that one," murmured Al. To Scorpius, he said, "Best get moving, it's still a ways down to the dungeons."

Scorpius nodded and, as his friend began to move away, called, "Good luck."

Over his shoulder, Al threw back, "You too," and jogged on down the corridor.

Al had never seen the halls so empty. Even late night explorations had been accompanied by roaming ghosts and the snoring of portraits. But now, nearly everyone was at the Halloween feast, and those who weren't, including the portraits, were now making their way toward the Great Hall to see what the commotion was about.

No sooner had he though this, though, than he heard rapid footsteps approaching from the opposite direction. Heart pounding, he darted into a narrow adjoining corridor and pressed himself against the wall. As the steps clattered past, he saw that they belonged to a pair of second years with Peeves hard on their heals and heavily armed with a sack full of rotten eggs. Al wouldn't have been surprised if Lily and Hugo had asked the poltergeist to patrol for them, or even that he had agreed to do it.

Once they were out of sight, he ventured from his hiding place and dashed to rest of the way to O'Brien's classroom. _Alohamora _made quick work of the locked door, and within seconds he was facing the massive bookshelf behind O'Brien's desk, wand at the ready.

Breathing evenly, he cleared his mind and focused on the sequence that Henry had explained. Once he was sure of it, he aimed his wand at a book in the very centre of the shelf and said in a strong, clear voice, "_Diffindo et novo._"

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the book inched itself out of place on the shelf and hung suspended in the air. In a single, smooth motion, the book's cover pealed away and hovered, detached from its bindings. Immediately, a second book slid from the shelf and also shuffled away from its cover. The two covers exchanged places as a third book joined its companions and switched covers with the second. Another two volumes followed, then three, then five, their binding floating and changing like strange birds fluttering about the office.

Al stared, transfixed, as the spell proceeded through its sequence, too awed to take pride in the complexity of his own wand work. In the seventh cycle, he shook his head, remember that his time was limited, and exited the office.

After a glance at the Map, borrowed from James, to ensure that the way was clear, he hurried back to the Great Hall just as the Prefects were herding their Houses back inside while some of the professors set about returning the suits of armour to their places. He caught sigh of James who arched an eyebrow questioningly. He gave his brother a nod and joined the bustling crowd slowly pouring back into the Hall.

It was several minutes before Scorpius appeared, huffing and flushed, and dropped into his seat beside Al.

"Where'd you come from in a hurry, Malfoy?" asked a seventh year boy, chuckling.

"Loo," Scorpius managed breathlessly. "Thought… might… run out… of sweets."

The other students laughed, and Al, smiling, handed his friend a treacle tart.

* * *

The wiser course of action would have been to avoid the various scenes of their crimes and simply allow the chaos to unfold without supervision. But the temptation to witness the fruits of their handiwork was too great for Al. So, immediately after the first class of the day, he and Scorpius raced nonchalantly from Charms, across the castle, to the corridor outside O'Brien's classroom. To Al's surprise, a small crowd had already gathered, Lily and Hugo among them.

He started to ask what was going on, but Scorpius put a hand on his arm. "Listen." Then, Al heard it.

The sounds coming from inside the room were muffled, but there was no mistaking O'Brien's voice shouting franticly over wild crashes and the small screams of his students. Al blanched and turned back to Lily, who was looking unreasonably smug. Hugo, on the other hand, chewed nervously at his lip.

"What did you do?" Al demanded in a whisper, edging closer to them.

"You'll see," Lily whispered back. "The lock sh-"

The door burst open, and through it came a hovering shape, shifting horribly. In the changing form, Al saw a clown's face and a spider's leg and the clawed hand of an old woman. The shifting mass darted about as the crowd of students backed away. Suddenly, it began to spin dizzily. Then, just as abruptly, the blur of motion resolved into the grass-covered mound of a grave directly in front of Lily and Hugo.

For a moment, none of the students seemed to breathe. Then, Lily shrieked as a smooth white hand erupted from the ground and gripped her ankle. Immediately, Al grabbed her shoulders and pulled her roughly away from the grasping hand. Hugo, also, stumbled back, and the grave began to shift and turned on a second year Hufflepuff standing nearby.

Al fought to remember the DADA lesson on boggarts, to remember what shape had confronted him and how he had faced it, but the chaos around him made it difficult to concentrate. The boggart kept spinning from one student to another, changing and terrifying.

"Out of the way! Get out of the way!" shouted a commanding voice from the other side of the crowd. Al craned his neck and saw Neville and Professor Finnegan pushing through the frightened students, carrying a heavy steamer trunk.

The trunk dropped to the floor with a thud, and Neville stepped forward, wand raised. Instantly, the pale vampire twisted into a massive snake sprawling over the stones, its head half-severed in a pool of creeping blood. With one terrible jerk, the snake lifted itself from the ground, jaws snapping as its mangled body swung about unsteadily.

Neville's voice did not waver as he said "Riddikulus," and the snake became a tiny, flopping worm, which Professor Finnegan quickly levitated into the trunk. Only once the lid was shut and fastened did Neville lower his wand.

With a dark look at Lily and Hugo, he dashed into the classroom, leaving Finnegan to handle the frightened students in the hall. As the crowd began to move reluctantly away, encouraged by the arrival of professors Bones and Corner, the first years who had been trapped in the classroom emerged, O'Brien ushering them gently along. Al noticed a few cuts and bruises among the small, pale faces, but his blood ran cold when he saw Neville exit the room, a shivering form cradled in his arms.

Al recognized the girl, a Gryffindor called Marten whose goal in life, James had told him, was to become a professional Quidditch announcer because it was "loads more exciting than football!" Tears streaked her white cheeks, mixing with blood that trickled down from a short gash in her forehead. Her mouth was set in a thin, tense line, and her tiny hand clutched the front of Neville's robes as if her very life depended on it.

Scorpius was deathly pale, and Hugo looked about to be sick. Lily's eyes were wide with shock as she watched the little girl being carried out. Al, though, felt his insides twist into one solid ball and drop down to his feet as Neville cast at him a brief look of chilling, fathomless disappointment.


End file.
